White Christmas
by violet pixie
Summary: Bookverse, no slash: Erik and Raoul are forced to go on a dangerous journey where they will have to learn to trust each other... or be defeated by the dark forces lying in their path.


**White Christmas**

Chapter One—Whispers in the Wind

It was cold in Paris. The wind rushed through the grey, leafless trees and bleak alleys of the city while the frigid air condensed on countless glass window panes. Yet in the sky, the sun was shining brightly down upon the tired, shivering Parisians like a silent, all-seeing sentinel. Despite the chill in the air, the November morning was as calm and peaceful as ever...

Until Raoul de Chagny arrived at the opera house.

"Christine!"

The young soprano looked up at the sound of her name. Down one of the long corridors of the opera house came Raoul, an adoring smile on his face as he strode up to meet Christine.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled as they embraced.

"Good morning, Christine," he said softly, gazing at her adoringly as her blue eyes sparkled up at him. He smiled shyly and handed her a beautiful bouquet of lilies. "I brought you some flowers."

"Oh, Raoul! They're lovely!" she smiled politely, breathing in the flowers' unique scent. "But you shouldn't have…" she trailed off, sighing.

They started down the hall, the sunlight shining through the glass windows and illuminating the particles of dust drifting lazily through the air.

"So," Raoul asked, "what shall we do today, Christine? I could take you out to lunch if you want…" he cast a hopeful glance at her, but the she looked away.

"Oh… no, I think we should just… walk around today. As usual." She knew he would be disappointed, and she _knew_ he wanted more, but she just _couldn't._ She sighed, staring at the elegant petals of the lilies he had brought her so she wouldn't have to see the inevitable look of disappointment on his face.

"Whatever you like then," he said, only somewhat reluctantly.

Christine smiled softly. Raoul may not understand, but at least he didn't protest her distantness anymore. They could be _friends_, like so many years ago… She tried to be optimistic as her eyes wandered to the slim, golden band on her finger. _Erik…_ Why did things have to be so complicated…?

"What's wrong?" Raoul asked, bringing her out of her daze. His eyes followed her gaze and narrowed at the sight of Erik's ring. "It isn't that _Erik_ of yours, is it? If I ever meet him, Christine, I swear I'll-"

"Oh Raoul, you mustn't speak of him like that!" she cried, stopping and turning to face him.

"But _Christine,_" he stressed, "I don't like how you're always thinking about him, always being so secretive and-"

"I'm not '_always thinking about him'_, Raoul! I just don't want-" she broke off despairingly. "Never mind. Never mind, dear," she said, putting on a false smile and gazing up at him charmingly. _Please don't get upset, _she thought, silently willing him to accept her situation.

Raoul sighed, shaking his head but gently taking one of her hands in his as they continued down the hall.

Christine gazed sullenly out of the windows, Raoul's warm hand encircling hers protectively. But she was nervous; they were on a slippery slope, a dark precipice where one small push could send one of them over the edge. If anything went wrong, _anything…_ Christine bit her lip in anxiety. Why did they _both_ have to be there? And why did Raoul have to come here in the first place? Even though the dashing vicomte was the only thing keeping her from Erik's resounding darkness, the Phantom himself was the one who had shown her the light. Because after her father's death… there had been nothing. Just the same, weary old song and dance, nothing to guide her along her way, make her life _shine_ again; until _he_ came.

"Hey," Raoul said suddenly, "what's that sound?"

The distinct sound of raised voices drifted from a door up ahead. They crept closer as Christine squeezed Raoul's hand, holding the flowers close to her chest.

"—don't know why, _every time,_ you have to be so… so _extreme…_"

"Frankly, daroga, it's none of your _business,_ and I would appreciate it if you would just _leave_ _me alone…"_

Christine gasped in horror. "Come on Raoul," she coaxed, trying to hide the tremor that had found its way into her voice. "Let's go… over here…"

But Raoul had heard.

Christine couldn't help but squeal in dismay as her childhood friend relinquished his tightening grip on her hand and ripped open the door from which the arguing voices came. Sure enough, inside the small room stood a very flustered-looking Persian… and Erik, a white mask adorning his dreadful face. They looked up in surprise at Raoul's sudden entrance. As Erik's yellow eyes met Raoul's blue ones, Christine felt her fragile world shatter to pieces.

"You!"

"_You!"_

Christine groaned, now feeling quite faint. Maybe if she fainted, Erik and Raoul would forget their differences and come to fuss over her…

But if Christine had indeed fainted, purposefully or not, it would have had no effect, for the two men were now face-to-face with each other.

"Stay away from Christine!" Raoul shouted passionately. "I know what you're doing to her, and I won't have it!"

"Oh really?" hissed Erik, his wondrous voice turning deadly as he stood imposingly over the younger man. "Then you know that I'll _never_ give her up; especially to an impudent _brat_ like you!"

Raoul leapt upon the Phantom in fury, almost knocking him to the floor. Erik quickly threw him off and grabbed at his throat. Christine's eyes grew gradually wider as she watched the two scuffle around the room, her heart sinking with every beat.

Raoul's bouquet of lilies fell to the floor as Christine found her voice again. "Just _stop!_"

The Phantom and the vicomte hastily paused their impromptu battle at Christine's desperate cry, Raoul's hands still clutching Erik's shirt in an attempt to keep Erik from strangling him. A dead silence filled the room, broken only by Christine's distraught breathing. The Persian stared among the three of them, his eyes narrowed and calculating.

Erik spoke first, his voice cold and flat. "Then _choose."_

Christine gazed at him in confusion.

"If you want this to end, then _make your choice,"_ he hissed with finality.

"Yes!" Raoul exclaimed unexpectedly. "H-he's right, Christine! Just choose _now_, and we can se-"

"_No…_ No, I _can't!"_ she sobbed, turning and fleeing the room.

"_Christine_!"

"_Wait…!_"

But she was gone, down the corridors and out of sight, the door swinging behind her.

Raoul uncomfortably released his hands from Erik's shirt, and the Phantom reluctantly dropped his fingers from around Raoul's neck. There was an awkward silence, in which the two unfortunate men debated silently whether to run after the distressed girl or keep trying to kill each other.

Raoul started to feel a twinge of regret. He never wanted Christine to be unhappy. But _Erik, _that evil, devilish-

"Just look what you've done!" the Persian shouted suddenly, making Raoul jump. "The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves! The poor girl's probably crying her _eyes _out now!"

"Well it's not my fault," snapped Erik, turning to face him. "_He's_ the one who started it-"

Before Raoul could protest, the Persian interjected, "I don't care who started it, Erik; I'm _finishing_ it." He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Erik and Raoul glared at each other. "If the two of you can't get along, then…"

"Get _along?_ What are you getting at?" Erik growled.

"…then you need to leave."

Erik stared at him in disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Raoul said quickly, looking between the two of them. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was going to ask you anyway Erik, and… _yes…"_ And the Persian began to smile, a slightly sinister smile that Erik didn't like the looks of at all. He cleared his throat importantly, as if addressing two small children.

"You see gentlemen," he began, "I have a friend who lives up in Denmark. He is ill, and is in great need of the cure for his sickness. However, the recent snowstorms across Northern Europe have completely knocked out the railroad system, including the train that was carrying the medicine he needs."

"So?" Erik asked flatly.

"_So, _I was rather hoping you could bring the medicine to him." He looked pointedly at the two men, his ominous smile splitting into a broad grin. "_Together."_

"…Are you feeling alright, daroga? You're not ill too, are you?"

"_No, _Erik. I just thought that if the two of you could go off on some journey together, then maybe you could… get to_ know_ each other a little better. So maybe some of the _animosity_ between you would disappear, and it would be less stressful on Christine…"

"_Hell no._"

"Wait!" the Persian cried, as Erik had started towards the door. "I wasn't finished yet, Erik. You _owe_ him." He gave Erik a significant look.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "I owe _who?_"

"Akerman."

Erik froze in his tracks. The Persian grinned again.

"You…" Erik was fuming. "You can't make me do this, daroga!"

"Of course I can't _make_ you," he shrugged. "But he did save your life…"

Erik cursed. "Get someone else-"

"No."

Erik glared at the Persian, who stared back, undaunted. "You're not going to let him _die_, are you?"

After a moment, the Phantom sighed in defeat. "Fine," he whispered, his hands clenched into fists.

"Right then! Raoul, you're going too, so-"

"_What?!"_

"No!"

Erik and Raoul exchanged outraged looks, and shouted simultaneously, "You can't make me-"

"But Raoul," the Persian said innocently, "what would Christine think, if I told her that _Erik_ was going on a noble quest to save a poor, ailing old man, and you refused to help just because you don't like him?"

"That's not fair!" he exclaimed. "It's not _my _quest, I don't even know who this _Akerman_ is! _He's _the one who-"

"He may need your help," the Persian suggested.

Erik snorted derisively. "He couldn't help a cat out of a tree."

"Hey!" Raoul cried indignantly.

"And Erik, would you _really_ want Raoul to be here with Christine while you're gone?" the Persian quickly pointed out. "What if she makes up with him while you're away? It could damage your relationship with her _irreparably_…"

Erik narrowed his eyes, contemplating the Persian's statement.

"But…" Raoul protested weakly, "I have… I have to go on the polar expedition! I can't just leave with that coming up…"

"Weren't you just telling Christine the other day that you were staying here?"

"_Well…"_

"And Christine won't want to be around the two of you anyway, after _that _display…"

Raoul looked down, ashamed, and Erik grimaced at the wall.

"Then it's agreed! We'll meet in front of the opera house at seven tomorrow." The Persian beamed at the two reluctant men. "It should take less than two weeks to get there and back again, so pack up whatever you need. And Erik," he warned, his tone serious, "If you kill Raoul, if you hurt him at all, I don't think Christine will ever want to see you again. So _keep your anger under control._"

Erik glared at him, and without even glancing at the now-nervous-looking vicomte, swept out of the room.

Raoul gulped. "Do I _really_…?"

"_Yes._ Good day, Monsieur de Chagny." The Persian smiled at the young vicomte and followed Erik out of the room.

Raoul groaned miserably. _What have I gotten myself into…?_

***

Christine stumbled down the cold, dusty hallways of the opera house, tears streaming down her beautiful, pale face. She flung herself down on the floor by one of the hallway's open doors, trying to clear her vision.

As she blinked the tears out of her eyes, Christine felt a gust of cold air come from the door she was sitting by. Sniffing, she got up and walked into the room. It was empty except for a few dusty music stands resting in the corner. The source of the breeze came from an open window.

Sighing, Christine walked over to the window. But instead of closing it, she stuck her head out, breathing in the cold autumn air. The wind caressed her cheeks and dried her tears as she gazed down the sunny street. At least it was peaceful here, away from all the mad commotion caused by her two unreasonable suitors.

Christine glanced down at her hands clutching the dusty windowsill… and there was the ring. _Erik's ring_, twinkling innocently up at her.

Overcome with a flush of anger, Christine yanked off the golden band. Erik and Raoul's faces flashed through her mind, their eyes full of hate. _Fine_, she thought, and boldly flung the ring out of the window and down to the bushes below.

A thrill of nervousness coursed through her body for a moment as she stared after the precious band. But she refused to let herself regret.

"I wish…" she sighed deeply, her eyes tearing up slightly. "I wish they would just leave me alone! I wish they would leave, and _never_ come back!"

A sudden gust of wind blew through the open window where she was standing, rustling her hair and whistling through her ears. And the wind seemed to whisper to her, as if it were saying something… as if it had heard her wish.

But that was silly, Christine thought; the wind didn't have _ears_, and if it had, then it _surely_ wouldn't be listening to _her_. What a ridiculous wish, anyway; she hadn't _really_ meant it, had she? Well, not the "never come back" part anyway… she sighed. It was hopeless, really, thinking something would actually go right for a change. She would go back to the dressing rooms and get ready for rehearsal as always; but she _certainly_ wouldn't be forgiving Raoul and Erik any time soon. She could go weeks without hearing a peep from them and she wouldn't mind one bit. Christine smiled to herself.

Full of a new-found confidence, the young soprano walked away from her window and her self-pity, and made her way back to the dressing rooms where the other singers and dancers and musicians got ready for the day's rehearsal. At the same time, Raoul marched grumpily out of the opera house and headed back to his mansion, where he would prepare for the long (_quite_ longer than he expected) journey ahead of him. And in the cellars of the grand building, Erik let his frustration out on a few ill-fated rats, the Persian's confident smirk and Christine's tearful face fresh on his mind, before grudgingly retreating to his lair.

Yes, it was a beautiful morning in Paris on that bright November day. But more than sunlight was watching over the city that morning. The wind blew naturally through the trees and the churches and the broken-down little houses, but if one listened closely, they might be able to hear quiet, sinister chuckling coming from the gusts and gales. But that was silly; the wind couldn't _laugh…_

Ghosts, on the other hand, could chuckle as much as they wanted.

_*****End Chapter One*****_

Next Chapter: Erik and Raoul set off on their quest, only to find that things will be _much_ harder than they anticipated.

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed it! This is only the first chapter, so there's plenty more to come. I don't know how consistent I'll be with updating, but I'll try to pump out the next chapter soon. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! :) Many thanks to Ellyn, Megan, and miyuki-chan332 for helping out :D You guys rock.

**Also:** This story is **not** slash, nor does it pair Erik or Raoul with any "other woman." There will be _some_ "Christine/OC", but it won't last, since said OC is an evil, evil person.

Hope to see you next chapter!


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